Duality
by Story Please
Summary: He really shouldn't do it. He mustn't. He has to tell her that he can't...that he won't. But then she gives him that look, places her hand on his shoulder...and oh, he is so, so lost. Enjoy some angst with a side of happy ending!


Author's Note: Written for Round 8 for Season 6 of the QLFC

Round 8: The Korean Wave

Team: Pride of Portree

Position: Captain

Captain's Prompt: K-drama Special - _The End of that Summer._ Theme - finding out your loved one/partner/family hid something major from you and left you with that something (debt/a child/a cursed object etc) and what you do about it.

Word Count: 2,261

Beta Love: Many thanks to Crochetaway for looking my story over!

Additional Note: AU story! Timeframe is Post-Second-Wizarding-War. Severus survives. Hermione becomes a Potions apprentice and then wants to get her mastery in Charms afterwards because she's ambitious like that. Just making it clear that there are lots of canon divergences, but it's all in good fun!

* * *

 **Duality**

It probably would have been easier to write it off as a fling if it had happened only once. But Hermione was his _apprentice_ , for Merlin's sake, and he was far too old not to know better. Still, she was already in her mid twenties after having gone to Muggle university. He hadn't been her first, and for that he was eternally grateful. He would go to the grave before he told her the truth about his own lack of experience, though. Luckily, his attention to detail and perfectionistic nature finally paid off, and she seemed to think that he was far more attentive and skilled than her previous conquests. Severus doubted this somewhat, for how hard could it be to listen to someone's body when it sang out in joy? However, he did have to admit that there were many dunderheaded children that grew up to be equally dunderheaded adults, so it also did not surprise him.

"This changes nothing," she'd told him the next morning, her cheeks scarlet and fresh-kissed. "We're just...blowing off steam, is all."

"Of course, of course," he'd agreed far too readily, and then they'd dozed until noon.

Each time, he told himself that _this_ would be the last time, but then she would look at him in that _particular_ way and all of his well-intentioned willpower vanished like smoke.

He devised thousands of ways to end their _arrangement_ , because despite what Hermione said each morning, there was more to their nights together than mere shallow _need_. The tender way that her fingers traced the scars on his back helped him to realize just how touch-starved he'd been all his life. Once he felt the power of her touch, he knew there was no way he could go back to what had been before.

Of course, there was also the way she sighed happily and nuzzled into his shoulder when he wrapped his arms around her at the end of a stressful day. Only when they were alone would she finally allow herself to release every bit of tension and spoon against him, boneless and sated, until she drifted off to sleep. Later, she confessed that she'd never been able to sleep comfortably next to anyone before him, and that she rarely slept well alone. It told him that she, too, felt a spark of something far more complex than a mere casual fling.

True to her word, she was all business during the day. Years of spending his days in one role and his nights in another made pretending similarly effortless for Severus. Both knew that it was imperative that they did not mix professionalism with pleasure. In the past three months, they had made great strides in improving the Wolfsbane Potion. Not only would the new formula stop the transformation altogether if taken daily, but some of its users were reporting a complete remission in symptoms as well. They both stood to gain fame and fortune if their final product could past muster with the Potion Control Board in the autumn.

When the sun went down, however, everything changed. Gone were the ingredients, the books, the samples, and spreadsheets. Once everything was finally attended to, she would place her hand on his shoulder—a simple action that somehow hinted at a thousand things. The soft pressure of her fingers on the fabric of his robes never failed to send an electric shock up his spine.

"It's time." Her breath, hot and intoxicating, flowed against his ear.

Without fail, he always had to force himself not to shiver. Slowly, he would turn his head, steeling himself, and say, "That would be...amenable."

Then they would walk hand in hand to their quarters, and spend every moment making what they could of it.

* * *

It was nearly September when Severus finally realized that Hermione would be leaving to begin her next apprenticeship in Charms in less than a month. They were set to report their findings the following weekend, and there was no doubt in Severus' mind that she would receive her Mastery in Potions.

He knew he had to say something, but everytime he tried to do so in the intimate darkness they shared, she would press her lips to his until his mind went blank. Once, while they were working, he tried to say something. But after so many months of dividing the day and night, he lost the nerve to do so.

When she handed him the completed study, he noticed that her hands quivered, and her expression seemed to be searching for an answer to a question she seemed poised to ask. His heart leapt and he inhaled sharply; he desperately tried to steel his nerves. Her free hand stretched out as if to touch his cheek, then she seemed to realize what she was doing and drew away again.

"Mm, too much coffee, I think," she remarked, tossing the bundled papers on the table and rubbing her hands together for a moment. "I think we're ready for the presentation tomorrow, then. Good evening, Severus."

That night, she left the workroom alone.

* * *

The day that she left, they stood together on the platform.

"Please...Hermione…" By the time he was able to force his stubborn tongue, it was already too late.

"I'm sorry. It's nothing personal, Severus," Hermione said. Her bags were on either side of her, and she held out her hand to shake. Prim, cold, and proper, she stood with her Mastery pin smartly gleaming upon her robes. "Thank you for everything."

"If you ever need a place to stay—"

"Please...Severus...don't do this…" Hermione's voice was the barest whisper, but it hit Severus in the chest like a freight train and he stumbled back.

"Of course. Congratulations, Master Granger." Severus tried holding onto the pleasurable shock of sensation that traveled up his arm when their fingers touched, but then she was withdrawing her hand, grabbing her bags, and turning towards the train.

From the speed at which she had hurried away, Severus was certain she had already forgotten him by the time the engine pulled out of the station.

* * *

He found the journal down the side of his bed that evening while he was changing the sheets. From the look of it, the journal had already been halfway completed and Severus smiled instinctively when he saw the familiar scrawl of Hermione's handwriting on the cover. He turned it over, then almost instinctively began to open the cover. Hastily, he caught himself and slammed it shut without looking inside. Guilt stabbed its way through his heart. Not only was this a personal thing, but he was also struck with a growing sense of fear. For all he knew, Hermione had written awful things about him—perhaps she'd detailed their exploits as some sort of blackmail! But even as these suspicious thoughts plagued his mind, Severus could not reconcile them with the memories of her hair tickling his nose as she slept in his arms.

"Still, I should not read it. It wouldn't be right," he said, placing it in a drawer. He resolved to send it back to her the next day.

He forgot about it.

Well, that wasn't exactly true, but he tried. Severus could do most anything but _forget_ about it. Sometimes the hunger of wanting something of Hermione's drew him to pull out the book and stroke the leather cover, holding it tightly to his chest and inhaling the scent of old ink, parchment, leather, and... _her_.

Every night he told himself that he would owl it to her, but every day, he found that he could not bring himself to do so. He came up with a thousand reasons why he simply couldn't. Maybe she would assume he read it, even if he didn't. Maybe she didn't even remember where she'd put it. Maybe she was glad to be rid of all reminders of her silly fling with an old, ugly wizard.

And _maybe_...maybe she would come back for it, and he could see her again.

* * *

The months passed. Hermione sent letters telling him of her progress. Charms were much harder for her to master than Potions, and he could tell that she was struggling. She asked a few professional questions, but there was no sign that she cared to bring up anything else. Severus, to his credit, pretended that everything was fine. He answered her questions succinctly and did nothing to dredge up old memories. He even mentioned the new Apothecary in town that was run by one Parvati Patil.

"Patil offers an excellent selection of ingredients if you ever find yourself up this way," he wrote, hoping that she might take the hint to visit even though she never did.

But every time he received one of her letters, he couldn't help but close his eyes and run his finger over her signature. He felt pathetic for saving the letters in the drawer along with her journal, but it was the closest thing to having _her_ , and he found he could not bear to throw them out.

* * *

It was a cold January morning. He was awakened by the sound of someone pressing hard against his bell, and he stumbled to the door thinking about how much he was going to enjoy hexing the bits off whoever dared to disturb him.

"Hello, Severus." Hermione stood before him, her robes disheveled and a single overnight bag thrown over one shoulder. Her hair was a fright, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but Severus thought she was even lovelier than he remembered.

He moved to the side, and she entered hesitantly. Gone was the cold, calculating professional. Instead, Hermione stood uncomfortably in his front room, her bottom lip unconsciously protruding as she tried to hold herself together.

"I...hope I'm not disturbing you," she said, looking around expectantly.

"Are you looking for something?" Severus' mind immediately went to his bedside drawer and the journal it held within.

"No...um...I'm being silly, I know…" Hermione trailed off. "Are you...alone?"

Severus bristled, despite himself. "You've already dragged me from my bed at god-awful o'clock. You don't have to rub it in."

"Oh! No, that's not what I—I'm sorry, Severus. That didn't come out right." Hermione placed her bag on one of his wingback chairs. "I...last time when you mentioned Parvati…"

Severus frowned, then he let out a bark of laughter. "You thought—Ms. Patil, who is happily married to Ms. Brown—but that's absolutely absurd, Hermione!"

She smiled softly. "I'm glad you still consider us to be close enough to call me that."

"Absurd?" he quipped, falling silent when he realized that her eyes were rapidly filling up with tears. "I—oh Merlin, please don't cry!"

"It's not you," Hermione said, her lip quivering. "It's never been you."

"Wha—oof!" Severus felt the air go out of him as she suddenly rushed over and threw her arms around him. He froze in utter shock as the warmth of her body pressed against him.

"It was too hard—I couldn't cut it with Master Ridgeback. I...I left. And you...you said…I...c-could—"

"Stay here? Of course. My offer did not come with an expiration date," Severus said, resting his chin on the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her as she tried to hold herself together. Pleasure coursed through his body as she sighed softly just as she had back when she'd been his. This tiny sound overwhelmed his sense of reason and he tipped her chin up, tenderly pressing his lips against hers.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, searching. "I thought you didn't feel the same."

"What?" He blinked, confused.

"Didn't you read it? I left it for you." Hermione's cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

"I...do you mean your journal? I've kept it safe—"

"Yes, but did you _read_ it?" Hermione interrupted.

Severus shook his head. "Of course not! Why, the invasion of privacy alone would be unforgiv—"

"You idiot!" Hermione was grinning now. "Of _course_ I would have to choose the only man in the world who would be too respectful to read a woman's journal when the opportunity arises!"

"I don't get what you're—"

"I _love_ you, you git!" Hermione blurted, then slammed her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. It was too late. The words hung between them.

Understanding began to dawn upon Severus and for a moment, he was sure his legs were about to collapse underneath him. He took a shaky step backward and steadied himself by grabbing hold of the mantle of the fireplace. "You...but why? How? I thought—"

"It's love, Severus, not a bloody thesis paper," Hermione replied. "You always agreed with me when I said it was just casual, just... _convenient_." She spat the word out as though it were a curse. "But...it wasn't true. And I was too much of a bloody coward back then to say it to your face. I didn't want to lose... _this_."

She stepped forward and rose up on her toes to kiss him soundly on the lips, her fingers digging into the fabric of his robes and pulling him tightly against her.

Instantly, he melted against her, his body radiating pleasure outward from his lips until he was certain that he was floating.

"I _need_ you, Severus," she said, then, and bit her lip again. "But I need you to need _me_ too."

"I never stopped needing you," he replied, his voice husky. "And frankly, I doubt that I ever will."


End file.
